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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24529249">pills and razors</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucidnightmares/pseuds/lucidnightmares'>lucidnightmares</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Cutting, Depression, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Gen (For Now) - Freeform, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overdosing, Recovery, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, abandoned work, i guess. he doesn't get to do it but he brings it up so, is that a tag?, massive trigger warning, probably ooc but who cares, spoilers probably, suicidal nagito komaeda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:34:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24529249</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucidnightmares/pseuds/lucidnightmares</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[this fic is now abandoned. sorry, folks. might rewrite it someday.]</p><p>Today is the day Nagito Komaeda is going to kill himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. today</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Today, Nagito Komaeda woke up. Tomorrow, Nagito Komaeda will (hopefully) not wake up.</p>
<p>Today was the day Komaeda was going to kill himself.</p>
<p>He had planned it out for weeks. He was going to go about the day as normal, then at midnight, when his parents are asleep, he’s going to slit his arms and legs, then overdose.</p>
<p>Komaeda couldn’t feel comfortable living anymore. He loves his friends, his family, everyone.</p>
<p>But there’s a line that you have to draw when it comes to self loathing and suicidal ideation.</p>
<p>And Komaeda had crossed that line.</p>
<p>Komaeda stands up and stretches. He showers, eats breakfast, and then brushes his teeth. He then puts his coat on and hops outside, and waits for the bus.</p>
<p>He stares at the ground for what seems like hours before the bus arrives. Usually, days like these went by in the blink of an eye for Komaeda, but right now he wants to enjoy every last nanosecond.</p>
<p>He waves at his other classmates and sits down by Hajime and Chiaki.</p>
<p>Hajime had saved a window spot for Komaeda, as usual.</p>
<p>He listens to the chatter of the bus after sitting down, Souda’s yelling and Gundham yelling back.</p>
<p>He listens to every little word, every giggle, every whisper and murmur.</p>
<p>He closes his eyes.</p>
<p>The bus takes about 20 minutes to arrive at the academy, as it usually does.</p>
<p>Komaeda stands up and slowly walks to the academy.</p>
<p>He watches other students walk, run, jog, and sprint by him. He takes in every moment of it.</p>
<p>He gets to the school and goes to his classes.</p>
<p>Every second, Komaeda is just observing everyone. He wants to enjoy what is hopefully his last day on earth.</p>
<p>The day ends, and whilst Komaeda walks home, he feels a hand on his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Ah-” He spins back around and sees Souda.</p>
<p>“Hey, Ko! Wanna go to the arcade with me, Chiaki, and Fuyuhiko?” He gestures behind him and Komaeda sees his other friends.</p>
<p>“Nah, I got plans tonight. Cya.” Komaeda sounds like he’s in a hurry.</p>
<p>“Alright! See you tomorrow, man!” Souda chirps then skitters off with the others.</p>
<p>Komaeda smiles. “No, you won’t.” He murmurs.</p>
<p>He walks halfway home before sitting on a bench, the street lights lighting up the pitch black street.</p>
<p>He leans back, closing his eyes and feeling the wooden board against him.</p>
<p>He listens to the silence, feeling himself become detached.</p>
<p>Why does he want to end it all tonight?<br/>Why does he want to do it in such a gruesome way?<br/>Why won’t he consider what will happen after he’s found?<br/>He just wants to go to sleep. Forever.</p>
<p>He runs his hands through his hair. He needs to go home now.</p>
<p>He stands up, staring at the night sky for a few minutes before walking off.</p>
<p>He arrives home, he eats dinner with his parents, then goes to his room.</p>
<p>He sits down on his bed, hearing the creak of the mattress.</p>
<p>He unplugs his lamp, and lies down, and stares at the ceiling.</p>
<p>He counts down. <br/>He waits for 12am. <br/>He waits for the time he’s able to go to the bathroom. <br/>He waits for him to be able to kill himself. <br/>He waits for him to be able to be found in the morning, in a pool of pink. <br/>He waits for the time where he can kill himself and his mom will find his body tomorrow and she’ll scream. <br/>He waits for the time where he will finally end it all. <br/>He waits for the time where he won’t pussy out.<br/>He waits for the time where he can die, because he doesn’t care if mom cries.<br/>He waits for the time where the entire bottle of pills will enter his throat.<br/>He waits for the time he can stop being in so much pain.<br/>He waits.</p>
<p>Then, he hears a tick, and it’s time.</p>
<p>He stands up slowly.</p>
<p>He can feel the tears involuntarily stream down his face.<br/>He can feel his heart pound.<br/>He can feel how much it’ll hurt before it all goes black.<br/>He can feel his parents future heartache.</p>
<p>He walks towards his door, his vision blurring, his movements slow, his mouth agape and emitting involuntary sobs.</p>
<p>He doesn’t feel he can do this. But he’s going to do it anyway.</p>
<p>He thinks about what his friends will say. What his parents will say. What anyone, everyone will say.</p>
<p>He wonders if his mom will scream when she finds his body laying in blood, his arms cut from palm to shoulder, his legs cut from ankle to hip, pills falling out his mouth.</p>
<p>He snaps back to reality and realizes he’s already turning the doorknob.</p>
<p>He doesn’t stop himself, but continues.</p>
<p>He turns the knob and steps inside, feeling and hearing his tears hit the bathroom floor. It’s nearly silent, but he can hear it.</p>
<p>He wonders if he should write a note.</p>
<p>He closes the door.</p>
<p>He kneels down and opens the cabinet.</p>
<p>His heart is pounding now.</p>
<p>He can’t hear his breathing, but he’s sure it’s shaky.</p>
<p>He takes out the sharp razor blade he had hidden, then takes out the pills.<br/>He removes his coat and rolls up his sleeves and pants as much as possible.</p>
<p>He sits down, and gets to work slicing his legs open.</p>
<p>He flinches with every cut he makes, despite being used to the feeling.</p>
<p>He then starts working on his arms.</p>
<p>After he’s finished, he already feels dizzy.</p>
<p>He takes out the pills and tries to unscrew the cap.</p>
<p>He tries to murmur to himself, “Damn childproof caps.” But it just comes out as garbled gibberish.</p>
<p>He finally breaks it open, but then everything becomes blurry.</p>
<p>He can only twitch.</p>
<p>Then he sees a bright light, and the sound of a heart monitor fills his ears.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. tomorrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nagito wakes up in the middle of the night.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>NOTE!!! not actually the day after his suicide attempt. moreso a few months later. sorry this took so long to get out!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Tick.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tock.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tick.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tock.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tick.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tock.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nagito’s lips twitch, laying down on the soft mattress and listening carefully to the unsettling repetition that came from the clock that hangs neatly on the wall beside him, as if he was waiting for another noise that would snap him out of what seems to be a hypnotized state, swallowing down the discomfort in his throat and continuing to lie there, his pale emerald eyes staring at the ceiling above him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was eerie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been that way since he had come home from the hospital, the usually warm and welcoming household that had always felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal</span>
  </em>
  <span>, now seemed to have a strong, thick layer of dread attached to it, one that could never go away, no matter how hard anyone tried. It was uncomfortable, very much so. Nearly upsetting. But, for a while, he had felt… Apathetic. Not sad, not depressed, not angry, not vengeful, just chronically empty, a thick void constantly settled in his brain, as if he never had felt an emotion in the first place. His parents had grown worried, protective, insecure about their son's safety, not even allowing his bedroom door to be open at night, let alone locked. The medicine would be stored in the cabinets, locked away and Nagito would have to specifically ask them to unlock it for him. He could never see the key, them presumably being fearful of him finding it and taking the pills, trying to do it again. The luckster couldn’t blame them, truthfully, even if he was a little frustrated about the extra precautions, he understood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs, sitting up in his bed and hearing his bed squeak in adjustment to the sudden movement, and glancing at the clock above him, the handles slowly moving in rhythm to the ticking, as if a performer to an orchestra.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>1:13 AM</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness in order to fully comprehend the time, and he sighs once more, pursing his lips and shaking his head slightly in disappointment of how long he’s stayed up, his cloud-like fluffy white, pale red-tipped hair now slightly more messy than it already was previously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows exactly what is causing his insomnia, and it makes his gut twist and knot just having a singular thought about it crossing his mind for the shortest second, his eyes glancing down at his arms and looking at the now faded scars that had been left from it, lines of darkened red scattered across his pale skin, practically mocking him. He swallows down another lump of discomfort, something that quickly would have delved into maybe even sadness for the first time in literal weeks. His throat felt dry as the sahara desert. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I need some water.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thought to himself in between the fog.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah. Some water. That’ll clear his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shifts and sits on the side of the bed, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. It’s shaky, and if anything, it proves how unsettled he really is, but it doesn’t matter to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stumbles his way through his room, the floor quietly creaking underneath his movements, every small noise causing Nagito to wince in worry of waking his parents.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He eventually made it to the kitchen, it being pitch black other than a singular candle. The flame is dying, small and scratchy. It radiates a distinct scent of cinnamon, sending strong wafts into the Ultimate and sending shudders of discomfort throughout the pale teenagers spine, and he visibly cringes from how strong the smell is. He glances around, stepping further into the kitchen, reaching for the sink and slowly turning it on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drop.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drop.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drop.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drop.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swallows. Something about everything feels off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s alive and that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Odd. Unsettling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pauses, and he leans over the sink, hearing the noise of the water, calm and repetitive, sounding like some sort of personification of apathy, going on and on, filling and invading his mind and his general being with a tasteless void, and he can feel the warmth of tears on his face, yet he swears he isn’t crying. It blends in with the tap water, making the same noise and causing the same emotions to rush through him, moonlight shining on his face and hair, coldness enveloping him. And just like a ghost, it all seems to come and go so quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gets a drink, and sits down, and he drinks it, and he goes to bed again and he sleeps. He sleeps, so peacefully, so calmly, like nothing has ever happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His bed doesn’t feel welcoming any more, he notices, and he realizes it most likely never will.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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